


walking in a winter wonderland

by crybaby



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Highschool AU, M/M, Pining, happy holidays!, ridiculous fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 23:54:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1100040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crybaby/pseuds/crybaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <br/>
    <i>Louis opens the door still in his pyjamas and Harry’s heart beats n his throat because Louis has milk at the corners of his mouth and biscuit crumbs on his chin and Harry thinks that this is what love might feel like, having your heart beat in your fingertips and rattle your body in an attempt to break free and give itself over to the object of your affection.</i>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>(Harry has a serious crush on Louis Tomlinson that ends up with him accidentally signing up to be on the Winter Ball committee)</p>
</div>
            </blockquote>





	walking in a winter wonderland

**Author's Note:**

> Very fluffy and stupid. Not very edited.
> 
> Happy Holidays !
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> **DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything or anyone.**

‘I swear to god Harry, if you don’t go talk to him, I will go up to him and ask him out myself.’ Zayn snaps, and Harry startles from where he’s been shooting heart-eyes at Louis across the common room.

 

‘What?’ Harry asks, picking up his discarded sandwich and pointedly not looking at where Louis is sitting.

 

‘You haven’t listened to a single word I’ve said because you’ve been too busy dreaming about sucking Louis Tomlinson’s cock.’ Zayn husks, and Harry flushes, down past the collar of his school shirt.

 

‘Haven’t.’ he defends softly, taking another bite.

 

Niall grins at him and takes another bite of his leftover-supper. ‘Have.’ he teases. Harry needs better friends.

 

‘Well, are you going to go and talk to him or do I need to do it for you?’ Zayn asks, cocking an eyebrow, and the thing is that, one, Harry can’t help but always do what Zayn tells him, two, Zayn definitely will go up to Louis and it’s definitely not an empty threat, three, Zayn will certainly, one hundred percent, embarrass Harry.

 

‘Zayn-‘ Harry starts to whine, but Zayn raises one of his perfect eyebrows and Harry groans. ‘Just talk to him?’

 

Zayn pauses, swallowing his forkful of salad before shrugging. ‘Asking him out would be preferred, but yeah, talking’s fine.’

 

Harry pointedly ignores Niall’s mumbled: ‘Ask him to the storage cupboard.’

 

‘Okay.’ Harry says, brushing his hands off on his thighs. ‘Fine. I’ll do it.’

 

Zayn punches his shoulder lightly as Harry stands up.

 

His heart thumps in his throat and his palms start to sweat as he approaches where Louis is sitting across the courtyard, talking to Liam. Harry can feel his ears flushing and his cheeks going pink as his eyes flick over him, swallowing down his warm smile and bright eyes, his fingers holding a clipboard to his chest.

 

Harry stops some way away from them, not wanting to interrupt, as he runs what he’s going to say through his head. He sees Louis’ eyes flick away from Liam and onto him, and his heart thumps out against his ribcage, battling to escape his bones. And Louis smiles, bright enough that Harry can see how sharp his teeth are and his eyes crinkle.

 

Harry tries to get the words out, but his throat feels like sandpaper, and he has a horrible flashback to Geography lessons and dry lands. He feels his body burning with heat as Louis stops talking to Liam and turns to face him fully, dropping the clipboard to rest on his thighs, and Harry’s lips start trying to form words.

 

‘Hi Louis,’ he croaks, and he can feel the words _would you go out with me_? in his chest, ready to come out but weighed down by his jittery paperweight of a heart.

 

‘Hi Harry!’ Louis beams and Harry gulps.

 

He wants Louis to stop talking, stop looking at him, so that he can just force the words out and accept his rejection before slinking back his table with his head held high. And it’s almost there, almost, and he has the words, rising in his throat, but.

 

But Louis clicks his pen and asks: ‘Are you here to sign up?’

 

The words slip back down his throat, and Harry wants to kick himself, wants to pull on his hair in frustration, because all he can manage is, ‘Sign up?’ stupidly.

 

‘Yeah, for the dance committee…’ he offers, tapping his pen against his clipboard and Harry’s eyes flick down, reading over the words _Winter Wonderland_ , and before Harry can stop himself and think better, he nods. Louis’ eyes light up. ‘Brilliant. Would you like to write your name down?’

 

Harry nods sadly, taking the pen from Louis’ outstretched hand and ignoring the bees buzzing in his tummy when their fingers touch. Louis hands him the clipboard and Harry blinks fast, scared that he’ll start crying out of complete and utter hopelessness.

 

He writes his name down, signing his name, before he hands the clipboard back to Louis. Louis looks at him, something clouding his sharp features. ‘You alright? You look a bit pink.’ he asks, and Harry can just nod and slump his shoulders before trudging back to where Zayn and Niall are pretending not to stare.

 

He drops back down into his chair and rests his head in his hands.

 

‘Fuck.’

 

 

 

 

Harry’s in the hallway, snapping his locker closed, when there’s a tap on his shoulder.

 

Harry turns around, fully expecting to see Niall asking him for maths homework or Zayn to walk him to his next class. But of course it’s Louis.

 

Harry freezes, his fingers still clutching his lock with his bio textbooks clutched to his chest as Louis gives him a bright smile and he feels himself flush.

 

‘Here’s a schedule for dance committee. You still want to do it, right?’ Louis asks, and it’s the perfect out. Harry can say his mum doesn’t want him to do anything that will interfere with his schoolwork or his piano, but he nods lamely and lets Louis tuck a schedule between his textbook and his chest.

 

Harry still standing frozen, looking down the schedule in his arms, when Zayn comes up to him and rests his hand on his lower back, through his blazer.

 

‘Walk you to bio?’ Zayn asks, already steering Harry away from his locker.

 

Harry nods numbly, already thinking about how he’s going to tell his mum about the meeting times gently.

 

He groans, leaning into Zayn’s side. ‘I am so fucked.’

 

 

 

 

‘I know it’s a lot mum, but I spoke to Miss Stephens and she said they could count as community service hours, which means I can finally finish my hours and get a community award.’ he tries to soothe, sitting at the counter and wiping at his mouth with his hand.

 

‘I know sweetheart, I just don’t want you to fall behind. You’re going to have to miss a few piano lessons to attend these Saturday meetings already. But if it’s what you want, then I’m happy.’

 

Harry wraps his arms around her middle, pressing his cheek into her chest. ‘Love you mummy.’

 

‘Love you too, poppet. Now tell me about this Louis.’

 

Harry groans.

 

 

 

 

‘So first I’m gonna check that all of you are here,’ Louis opens with, and Harry’s eyes are glued to Louis’ hands, clasped together. He has such lovely hands. Lovely fists, lovely fingers.

 

Zayn nudges him from where he’s curled up in a chair beside him. Harry startles and looks to see Louis staring at him from the front of the unlocked classroom. Harry flushes.

 

‘Try and stay awake Harry, eight o’clock isn’t that early.’ Louis teases, before he finishes the register.

 

Harry kind of wants to say that eight o’clock is nothing, and that he’s woken up at three for science experiments and at five for piano competitions, not to mention staying _up_ till five practising his vocals. But Louis has moved on and Harry would trip over his words and sound stupid while trying to sound witty.

 

Zayn, however, does look ready to fall asleep. As does Niall. Harry may hate them sometimes, but he will be forever grateful for them agreeing to join the committee with him. Even if he did have to agree to buy them each a bottle of alcohol of their choice with his savings. Harry still has no idea how he’s going to accomplish it.

 

‘So, I’m going to assign everyone to different portfolios, and if you don’t like them, argue with each other and don’t tell me because I worked hard on these arrangements.’ Louis says with an easy smile and Harry can feel himself dripping back into a lovesick teenager before Niall kicks his chair.

 

Niall gets put on music obviously, and Zayn gets obviously put on décor, but what surprises Harry is when he’s put on décor with Zayn. Louis must see the shock on his face because he looks him in the eye and grins. ‘Don’t look so shocked Styles; we had art together in year eight.’ And then he winks.

 

Zayn has to squeeze his waist just to make him breathe again.

 

 

 

 

So perhaps décor is not particularly easy.

 

Louis gives them a budget (something Harry had unknowingly helped Moj with a day before) and he tells them to plan and run it by him before any major decisions are made. It’s not a great budget.

 

Zayn draws up a basic sketch of the hall as Harry brainstorms, thinking out the best ways to spread their budget so they don’t just hire a smoke machine and that be it, and _no Zayn filling the hall with cotton wool is not practical_.

 

So in the end, their plan consists of a lot of fairy lights and Christmas lights to be borrowed from other students or bought and then an absolute fuckload of paper snowflakes to be cut out and then possibly off-cuts of blue and white fabric from Zayn’s aunt’s fabric shop. Then, Harry thinks, he can pay for white and blue balloons out of his own pocket so that they can then spend the bulk of their budget on getting fake snow to cover the floor of the hall and the stage.

 

Louis comes over to their huddle as Harry’s trying to explain to Zayn that maybe transforming the hall into an ice rink isn’t the best idea, and once Louis hears what Zayn’s arguing, they both gang up on Harry. It’s pointless though, because Harry can hardly speak because Louis is leaning against the desk right next to him and his skin feels too tight for how his heart is swelling.

 

‘So, guide me through it boys.’ Louis prompts, and Zayn kicks the leg of his chair so that Harry swallows, balling the sleeves of his jersey into his fists before coughing into his wrist to clear his throat, keeping his eyes down and trained to their messy sketch that now has Harry’s smiley faces drawn over every bare space and Zayn’s far too realistic drawing of a cock leaking in the corner with Harry’s explicit speech bubble next to it and he feels himself flush when he eyes where he’d scratched out Zayn’s scribble of Harry Tomlinson and Louis Styles.

 

‘Well, um.’ he starts, looking to Zayn for help. ‘We were thinking of collecting fairy lights from the school, and then getting some fabric from Zayn’s aunt, and then I’ll buy some balloons and then we spend the money on some fake snow.’ he blurts out, all in a quick blur.

 

When Harry looks up, Louis’ nodding with his arms crossed over his chest and Harry’s painfully reminded of Louis’ glowing sports resume by his glorious biceps, and god he feels about fifty degrees too hot.

 

‘Streamers?’ Louis asks expectantly, levelling Harry with a heavy gaze that has him shrinking back in his chair, torn between cowering in fear and ripping his clothes off.

 

‘Streamers?’ Harry squeaks, and Louis rolls his eyes and smiles again.

 

‘Yes silly, streamers. Everyone loves streamers.’

 

Harry nods stupidly, and he can so clearly imagine the look Zayn has on his face. The one where he’s trying not to laugh out of awe of the situation. ‘Okay, yeah. We can have some streamers.’ He’s already working out a new budget in his head, involving the birthday money his Nan sent him. He never though dance committee would be so toxic to his savings.

 

‘And also maybe we can get a Santa. You know, for people to sit in his lap and get pictures. Girls apparently love doing that again.’ he pushes off the desk and Harry has to train his eyes to his lap so he won’t look at his bum because it’s _right there_. ‘But looking at you Styles, I can tell you might be fond of sitting in older men’s laps as well.’

 

Harry gawps and Zayn finally starts laughing as Louis gets a slight blush on his high cheeks before shrugging. ‘That sounded a lot dirtier than expected.’

 

He walks off then, and Harry’s heart feels as fast as Roadrunner. Zayn tries to kick his giggles into silence by biting his fist before he lets out a long, obnoxious sigh, and turns to Harry with a smug look.

 

‘You are so fucked.’

 

 

 

 

So at first it’s not so bad.

 

There’s still three weeks until the dance and in all honesty, Harry still hasn’t managed to figure out why Louis is in charge when he doesn’t seem to take any of the planning very seriously. But Harry can see he’s trying, almost, because sometime a few days later, he comes to their little table, swinging one leg over the bench to sit next to Zayn as he chews an apple.

 

‘So,’ he begins, and Harry’s eyes struggle not to watch how he chews, swallows down with a bob of his Adam’s apple. There’s a shiny line of apple juice down the side of his lips and Harry feels himself lick his lips, like he’s too hungry to control it. ‘any news from the fake snow people?’

 

Harry nods, focusing on his lunch and not choking.

 

Luckily, or maybe not because Harry can never be sure, Louis turns to Zayn then. ‘News from your aunt?’

 

Zayn takes a sip from his Diet Coke and Harry gives his foot a nudge underneath the table. ‘Yeah, she said she can supply stuff for table clothes and then random slices for decoration.

 

‘Brilliant!’ Louis chirps, and oh god, there’s apple juice running down his hand and Harry’s cock twitches, ever so slightly. ‘And Niall, any news on that DJ equipment?’

 

‘Got it covered and gonna practice with it this weekend.’ he affirms with a goofy grin into his bite of his muffin.

 

And then Harry expects Louis to leave, maybe go ask the others on the dance committee about their progress, but instead he _stays_ , getting into a deep conversation about Derby versus Doncaster with Niall. Harry thinks maybe he’s still sleeping possibly. What’s also weird is that every time he looks up, he can feel eyes on their table and it takes him four tries to realise that Liam Payne is watching their table like a hawk.

 

Harry spends the rest of break trying to avoid Louis talking to him, trying not to let Niall or Zayn catch him staring, and continuously checking to make sure if Liam Payne is still watching.

 

He is every time, but it’s only towards the end of break when Harry notices Liam staring right at him. He startles and jumps, and he gets an even bigger fright when there's a hand on his upper arm.

 

'You alright?' Louis asks softly, and Harry gawps slightly at the warm touch on his upper arm, making his skin tingle.

 

He gives a stuttered nod and Niall snorts.

 

 

 

 

 

Zayn designs posters asking for Christmas lights, and although they do look brilliant when he puts them up all over the school, no one seems willing to donate.

 

So then Zayn suggests they step it up, after running it by Louis, and it becomes Harry's jobs to take down the posters and put up the new ones which now read 'Donate your Christmas lights for the Winter Ball in a chance to win a date with Louis Tomlinson.'

 

(Harry only donates his out of the good of his heart, definitely not because he wants a date with Louis)

 

And of course, they get enough lights by the end of the week.

 

 

 

 

Harry's mum seems a bit annoyed, and Harry can't say he blames her.

 

After spending a fair share of his birthday money on balloons and streamers, he then spends all his time making paper snowflakes.

 

He’d made the first ones beautifully, but around the two hundred mark he'd started getting lazy and fed up.

 

He’s bitching about it during the second Saturday meeting, and he flushes bright red when he realises that’s Louis' overheard him complaining because he sits down next to Harry, leaning on the back of the chair.

 

'You know Harry, I’m sure if you’re tired of making snowflakes, my little sisters won’t mind.' he offers, and Zayn looks up from where he's planning the time needed to pin the snowflakes to the ceiling to watch as Harry embarrasses himself. Christ, Harry even notices Niall pull out an earphone and grins. He needs new friends.

 

'No, it’s, um, fine. I’ve made three hundred of them, so it’s fine. It’s just threading them onto, um, string that’s the next problem.' he stutters, feeling his neck heat up and he should really stop wearing such thick jerseys to these meetings when he knows he’s going to blush.

 

'Threading them?' Louis asks, and Harry gives Zayn a wide-eyed look and he shakes his head before picking up conversation.

 

'Yeah, to pin them to the ceiling in the foyer.' he clarifies, and Harry fiddles with his phone, checking that his mum is going to fetch him at one and then take him to his piano lessons before dropping him at Lucca's house for tutoring after.

 

'Shit! That’s what you’re doing with them?' he balks, and Harry shrugs, asking his mum if he can visit the Sunshine Home tomorrow.

 

'Yeah, Harry said he’s willing to pin them up next weekend. The ceiling's made of the foam stuff that makes it easy to pin them up.' Zayn explains, and Harry looks up from his phone with a small smile before he sends a quick message to his fake snow contact, confirming his order.

 

'What if you give them to me and I get my sisters do it?' Louis asks, and Zayn kicks Harry’s ankle hard enough that he yelps. He gives Harry a look, and yes, Harry knows he’s being rude but he’d rather be rude than wet himself from the nerves he gets whenever he’s around Louis.

 

'I mean, yeah, um, okay?' Harry shrugs, his throat dry, and god, you’d think he would be getting used to Louis by now.

 

'Do you have any here?' Louis asks, and Harry wants to just end the conversation so his heart rate can slow and he can stop sweating.

 

Harry shakes his head and looks down at his shoes, before eyeing Louis' tatty tennis shoes.

 

'Do you think maybe I could fetch them from you, or you drop them off?'

 

Harry’s sure he stops breathing.

 

Thank god that Zayn notices because he nods. 'Yeah sure, Harry and I can drop them off tomorrow.'

 

'Brilliant.' Louis grins before he’s moving on to discuss advertising with Charles and Michael.

 

'You’re so fucked.' Niall giggles to himself, popping earphones back in to carry on with his mix.

 

 

 

 

Niall and Zayn come over once Harry’s back from tutoring Lucca.

 

Zayn has six breezers hidden in his tog bag while Niall has a half of bottle of brandy, snuck out from his dad's liquor cabinet.

 

Harry’s always been a lightweight, so even after his breezer his tongue feels a bit heavy, but then Niall is coaxing him into brandy and Harry feels like he’s drinking rusted fire, but Zayn cheers him on (softly, so that his mum won’t come check on them) and Niall claps his back as Harry splutters and gags.

 

It’s a good evening that ends with them all squished into Harry’s double bed.

 

But it of course does mean that the next morning when they wake up, Harry, pathetic as he is, has a hangover, while Zayn has Louis' address in a new text message, and Niall's stomach is grumbling as he makes fun of Harry.

 

Zayn gathers all of Harry’s snowflakes into a plastic bag and Niall makes a joke about Harry wasting his time when he could have just gone outside. Zayn force feeds him paracetamol before they bump downstairs.

 

Harry tells his mum that they’re just going to drop his snowflakes off at Louis' and that they'll be back, and she insists they wrap themselves in scarves and at least eat some toast before they leave.

 

Harry spends the entire walk to Louis' ignoring the bile rising in his throat and listening to Niall gush about his mum.

 

 

 

Louis opens the door still in his pyjamas and Harry’s heart beats n his throat because Louis has milk at the corners of his mouth and biscuit crumbs on his chin and Harry thinks that this is what love might feel like, having your heart beat in your fingertips and rattle your body in an attempt to break free and gives itself over to the object of your affection.

 

Harry just wants to give him the stupid snowflakes and go back home, but of course Louis has got to be polite and hospitable and say: 'Come in!'

 

Inside the house, it’s warm and smells how Harry feels Christmas should. There’s a fire burning and the Christmas tree is set up and Harry can hear the noise of little girls coming from what he thinks might be the kitchen.

 

Louis leads them in there and Harry’s greeted by four smiling faces.

 

'These are the rascals that will be doing your manual labour in payment of cookies.' he introduces with a sweep of his arm.

 

Harry smiles at them before Louis' mum is forcing them to sit down and eat breakfast.

 

 

 

 

They end up staying for longer than Harry anticipated, and while it does allow for Harry to finally relax and get somewhat used to and comfortable in Louis' presence, it seems to make the ache in the centre of his chest grow stronger. It makes him want to rip his heart out and just hand it to Louis so that it can stop ruining his life.

 

They’ve been there for close to an hour when Zayn finally rounds up Louis' sisters into the living room and starts his demonstration on how to thread the snowflakes, Niall sitting behind him and mimicking him to make the youngest ones laugh.

 

Harry watches then from the kitchen where he still hasn't finished his French toast. Louis comes in with a basket full of dirty laundry that his mum had scolded him for not bringing to the laundry sooner while Harry had tried not to laugh.

 

'They love him.' Louis muses, biting off the head of a gingerbread man.

 

Harry swallows his bite and almost applauds himself for casually replying, 'Everyone loves Zayn.'

 

Louis bites off his arm, chewing quickly with a loud crunch. 'How so?'

 

Harry pauses to think about it, watching as Niall winds his arms around Zayn’s chest from behind, laughing loud into his ear. 'Let’s just say, when you’ve been best friends with Zayn since you were eight, you learn to accept that people will always choose him first.'

 

Louis chews slowly, biting off both legs and watching Zayn, Niall and his sisters with his brow furrowed, so Harry takes the opportunity to watch him chew, swallow, lick his lips.

 

Louis bites around the heart of icing in the centre of his chest, before he holds it on his finger. 'Not always.' he mumbles, before he's popping the last of the biscuit into his mouth and Harry cringes at the loud crunch, almost feeling sorrow for how easily Louis ate the man up, biting into the heart without second thought.

 

 

 

 

Harry gets home just before lunch time, and his mum makes him a quick toastie before he has to go to the Sunshine Home.

 

As he’s chewing, his phone vibrates against his thigh. He guesses it must be his sister, sending her daily countdown to Christmas when she'll be home from uni, but instead a number he doesn’t know flashes on screen and when he unlocks, the message reads: _thanks for coming over haz, me and the girls have already gotten though half !! xx_

 

He feels his skin pull tight and his body blush all over as he takes another shy bite,

 

 

 

 

The next Saturday, their meeting is in the hall to set up.

 

Harry had scheduled the fake snow to be dropped off at eleven, in the middle of their meeting.

 

When he gets there, some of the committee is already in the hall, blowing up the balloons on the stage. in the foyer, Louis has left a rubbish bag full of his snowflakes, telling him they're all threaded before he hands him three tubs if drawing pins. Harry manages to smother his wobbly knees enough to manage a hopefully-not-too-manic smile.

 

Zayn’s got two rubbish bags full of fabric, one blue and one white, and five folded table cloths under his arm when he arrives and Harry rushes to help him.

 

Harry takes four of the five back to the foyer where Boggie and Tom are setting up tables, speculating about the odds on hooking up with Tina George.

 

He sets a tablecloth down on each table before he digs around in his backpack where it’s resting against the bag of snowflakes for his little shopping bag filled with white and blue streamers.

 

When he goes back into the hall, he immediately searches the crowd for Louis, finding him up on stage, helping Niall test out his music equipment.

 

Louis spots him once he’s halfway across the hall, and Harry feels pitifully self-conscious as he walks closer, wanting to pull his jumper down over his knees and sit down in the centre of the floor rather than risk falling flat on his face over his own feet.

 

Luckily, he doesn’t fall on his face; unluckily, he does trip on the steps up onto the stage, stumbling onto his knees.

 

He can hear Zayn snort from where he's making a plan of action, fabric-wise, and Niall try to hold his laughter in. Harry gets up and dusts his knees off.

 

He’s tempted to pat himself on the back for only blushing slightly when he approaches Louis.

 

'So, what were your ideas for streamers?' he asks him, ignoring Niall making 'kissy-faces' behind Louis.

 

Louis frowns as if trying to remember. 'Can you just remind me of your other plans?'

 

Harry nods. 'Floor covered in snow, balloons on the stage and down the steps, fabric pinned along the walls, Christmas lights running around the walls as well and maybe some hanging over the beams if we can manage, then two Christmas trees on either side of the stage and four refreshment tables in the foyer as well as a seat for pictures with father Christmas. Oh, and of course the snowflakes pinned to the ceiling.'

 

Louis nods. 'I was thinking of maybe just tossing them over the beams.'

 

Harry’s brows furrow. 'How are you going to do that?'

 

Louis grins and reaches for the bag in Harry’s hands. 'I have very good aim.'

 

So Harry proceeds to watch as Louis hops down the stairs and digs through the bag before pulling out a rolled up streamer, pealing it open before drawing his arm back and throwing. The streamer flies over the first three beams before drooping down.

 

Harry watches as Louis frowns, scratching the back of his neck, before he stalks to the side of the room and plucks the long pole used to open windows from its position against the wall. Harry watches as he carries it back, the sleeves of his hoodie falling down his wrists as he tries to control the long pole so that the small hook hooks onto the streamer and he pulls down slightly so that it droops between beams.

 

Harry must admit, it doesn't look so bad.

 

So as Louis carries on, Harry goes back to the foyer, untying the black bag and hauling it up onto one of the tables. He can hear the others laughing from the hall as he sets up alone, but he doesn’t let it bother him as he pinches a drawing pin between his teeth and reaches up to press the thread of a snowflake into the ceiling.

 

He does it surprisingly quickly without distraction, covering almost eighty percent of the ceiling before Louis comes to check on him.

 

'Wow.' he starts, and Harry drops the drawing pin his was holding out of shock before his hands shoot to pull down where his jersey had pulled up to show his tummy a bit. 'It looks amazing.'

 

'Thank you.' Harry almost preens, looking over his own handiwork and smiling.

 

Louis looks around a bit longer, and Harry feels very uncomfortable standing on a table in front of Louis. Louis finally looks back at him as Harry shuffles his socked feet, snow-crusted boots discarded in the corner, and Louis smiles. Harry swears Louis' smile could make the coldest winter feel like summer. 'I’ve finished the streamers, come look.'

 

Harry nods and slips off the table, piercing the heel of his palm with a drawing pin. His mouth falls open from the shock and pain of it but he quickly bites down on his tongue and squeezes his eyes shut so not to inform Louis. But Louis must notice because then he’s behind him, reaching for his wrist.

 

Harry’s breath goes shallow as Louis pulls the drawing pin out. It’s bleeding slightly, and it shouldn’t feel as sore as it does.

 

'Breathe Harry.' Louis soothes, his chest bumping against Harry’s elbow. 'It’s not so bad, just breathe.'

 

Harry nods and stares at his hand and he lets out a shaky breath. It’s bleeding a little, and Harry doesn’t understand how people can willingly pierce their ears.

 

'You okay?' Louis asks, letting go of Harry’s wrist, and Harry can’t decide if he’s happy or disappointed. Harry nods slowly, letting go of where he’s clutching to his own wrist tightly and swiping over the little bit of blood with his thumb.

 

'You know, my mum always used to kiss my ouchies better, and it always helped.' Louis says, and his hand is resting in Harry’s lower back and maybe Harry can’t breathe so well. He doesn’t think teenage boys are ever, in any way, meant to be as impossibly cute as Louis is.

 

'Yeah, mine too.' Harry says softly, trying to let his breathing fall back to normal.

 

'Can I kiss your ouchie, Harry?' Louis asks softly, and Harry thinks maybe he fell off the table and was knocked unconscious, rather than just sticking a drawing pin into his palm.

 

He nods his head shakily, and just like that, Louis takes his hands between his own small ones and presses his lips over the tiny wound. His lips are soft, slightly chapped, and Harry can just imagine kissing him, tasting beer and blueberries on his tongue, how soft he'd be, yet still so boyish and rough.

 

Louis pulls back and that leaves Harry’s knees feeling like jelly and his heart feeling like a provoked bear and maybe he feels a bit hot under the collar, or at least enough for roses to bloom in his cheeks, all before Louis gives him a shy smile that makes Harry’s blood thrum and his mind swarm with certain words beginning with L. But Louis must not notice the stars in Harry’s eyes or the fire breaking out over his skin as he leads him out into the hall.

 

The mood dissolves around Harry into a slushy puddle at his feet as they step into the loud hall, and Harry feels a bit like I Christmas day has just melted into the desert. Niall's got his equipment packed out and is testing the speakers, loud music pumping out before he grips a microphone and starts to sing some sort of folk song into it. Harry rolls his eyes.

 

One side of the hall is already covered in strips of fabric and the streamers look amazing, swinging between the beams in smooth dips. Someone’s carried the first Christmas tree in and the first few sets of Christmas lights are already secured to the wood running along the walls where the fabric is pinned in. The stage is full of balloons and Harry’s a bit awed that his budgeted plans actually look good.

 

'Wow.' he breathes. He hears Louis laugh next to him.

 

 

 

 

Around three o'clock when they’re all meant to be finished, the hall is finished and Harry'd managed to finish the foyer, and everyone’s lazily around comfortably as Niall packs up his kit, but there still isn’t any snow.

 

He messages his mum quickly, asking her to fetch him a bit later and that he'll give her a definite time after he calls the snow people.

 

After calling them, he searches out Louis, finding him talking to Sarah with two balloons held to his chest as faux breasts as she giggles, sweet as golden syrup. Harry’s heart does that thing again, where it tenses and seems to pull all his organs tight, and he smiles when Louis notices him and his eyes crinkle at the corners.

 

'Hey Louis, I just called the snow men,' he pauses when Louis laughs, a sound of Christmas bells and glitter, 'and they said they’re sorry for the delay and that they’ll be here in twenty minutes, so everyone can go and I’ll stay behind to set it up.'

 

Louis nods, a slight frown tugging down on the corners of his smile, before he claps his hands and tells everyone that they can leave.

 

Harry sits back down on the steps, leaning into it when Niall scratches though his hair as goodbye and Zayn pinches his cheek, pressing his thumb into his dimple, before he looks back down at his phone and waits for the silence to signify that everyone’s left.

 

He looks up when the last loud voice trails out the hall, seeing Louis standing back and looking up at the streamers.

 

'Louis?' Harry asks, rather puzzled, tucking his phone into his pocket. 'Aren’t you leaving?'

 

'Nah,' Louis says, smiling at Harry and walking towards him. 'Messaged my mum to ask if I could wait with you.'

 

Harry feels himself blushing as he gets up to walk towards Louis. He looks up at the streamers, wondering if he could reach a beam with the ladder from back stage.

 

'You did a great job, Louis.' Harry compliments, smiling at the mix of blue and white.

 

Louis shrugs. 'S'nothing compared to your snowflakes.'

 

Harry can feel his cheeks heating, but luckily before he has to say anything else, his phone is vibrating with a message to say that their snow is coming.

 

'Snow’s almost here.' he tells Louis, stuffing his phone into his back pocket and pulling his jacket tighter around his shoulders. 'I’m gonna go wait outside.'

 

Louis zips up his hoodie and pulls his gloves from his pockets, pulling them onto his slight hands. 'I’ll come with.'

 

Harry shakes his head, fiddling with his fringe where it pokes out the front of his beanie. 'It’s fine, you don't have to.'

 

Louis shakes his head and tuts. 'Don’t be silly Styles, let’s go.'

 

So Harry lets Louis walk with him as he slips out the side door and walks through the slush covered walk-way, to the front of the school.

 

It’s freezing outside, and Harry can feel it creeping into his coat, his fingers tingling with cold. He rocks on his heels, bunching his fists into his pockets as a shiver travels through his bones. It really is freezing.

 

They’ve only been waiting for a few minutes when he starts shivering. He looks at Louis and Louis' smiling down at his shoes, tatty leather boots, and he shakes his head.

 

'How are you not cold?' Harry asks, eyebrows so high on his head they must be hidden by his fringe.

 

Louis giggles, and Harry thinks of delicate droplets of snow being shaking about in a snow-globe before tinkling down lightly.

 

'I’ve got a warm centre. M’never too cold.'

 

Harry pouts like a child and Louis laughs at him again, so Harry can hear happiness in it. Harry’s teeth start chattering then, loud and clattery, and then Louis looks at him with a shadow of concern. It’s enough to hurt Harry’s eyes, make him feel like he’s been staring at the sun for too long, and he has to look away, back to where he’s digging the toes of his boots into the dirty snow.

 

'Hey,' Louis says, and Harry turns to face him, squinting. At least he can blame his pink cheeks on the cold. 'Come here.'

 

Harry frowns before Louis lifts his arm, smiling at Harry. Louis flicks his slight fringe and Harry looks down at his slushy shoes before he's slipping into the space beneath Louis' arm, wrapping his own arm around his middle, his fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie.

 

They wait like that, Harry tucked underneath Louis' arm and Louis tucked into his side.

 

By the time the truck arrives, Harry feels warm from his core. But that probably has to do with the fact that he’s touching Louis, holding Louis, being held by Louis.

 

Harry chats with the man who delivers it, and he can’t help flirting ever so slightly, because he will probably never be immune to warm eyes and scruffy jaws and large biceps. And it’s not as if he has a real chance with Louis, so perhaps he does throw in a giggle or two too many as he picks a bag from the back of the truck, before Louis’ asking:

 

'How many are there?'

 

'About fifty. Sixty, maybe.' he says, going round to the back of the truck to get more and Harry groans as his arms barely wrap around one bag, thinking he should maybe try to carry more than one at a time.

 

It takes some time, carrying bags full of fake snow into the hall, but once the truck is empty, he leaves them with a smile and Harry will deny staring a bit longingly as he waves him off.

 

And then they’re left in the hall with a mass amount of plastic bags and Louis digs around in his backpack for a while before pulling out a pair of scissors and a ballpoint pen. Harry watches him, disgustedly fond of the strange boy who seems to hold the hearts of every girl in the school, and that makes Harry feel stupid again and wish he’d gotten the name or number of the delivery man, because Harry is a boy with good marks while Louis is the sun.

 

Louis hands the scissors to Harry with a brush of fingers and he clicks his ballpoint pen before grinning at Harry. 'Race you to finish.'

 

Harry swallows the feelings that erupt in his chest. 'You’re on.'

 

 

 

 

Harry stands in a mess of white, plastic lying discarded around him, and scissors gripped in his fist like a weapon.

 

He looks for Louis, sees him bound towards the last bag with the leaps of a gazelle, and that's it for Harry. He bursts out laughing.

 

And then Louis starts, picking up the last bag after piercing it with his pen, and before Harry knows it, he’s lying flat on his back, surrounded by fake flecks of snow, and he can hear Louis laughing at him.

 

Louis stands over him, holding onto the fat bag, bursting with fake snow, and Harry shrieks as Louis tips it over him, snow gushing out through the crudely ripped hole. Louis cackles as he squeals and lets the snow shower him.

 

Once the bag has been emptied over Harry, Louis flops down beside him, puffing a few flecks of snow over him. Harry gives a weak giggle.

 

'Thanks Louis.' Harry sighs, looking up at the mess of streamers.

 

Louis chuckles before he's stuffing snow into Harry’s face.

 

‘Wanna make some snow angels?’ he asks once Harry’s finished coughing.

 

 

 

 

Harry pulls at the sleeves of his blazer where he stands on the raised platform, looking over the students flooded over the floor.

 

Niall's on fire and everyone seems to be having fun, fake snow splashing about at everyone's ankles. He smiles as he watches the crowd of students, eyes flicking to the little piece of mistletoe hanging from the centre beam he'd hung when he'd wrestled with the Christmas lights, all while balancing on the ladder from backstage. It was a risky and dangerous feat, but he’s seen a few couples enjoying a good kiss because of it, so he thinks it might have been worth it.

 

Zayn circles his fingers around his wrist and tugs him slightly. Harry raises his eyebrows, letting himself be pulled into the foyer and into the small queue for a photo with Santa Claus.

 

When Harry gets to the front, he launches himself into the man’s lap and grins for the camera, so that his dimples punch into his cheeks. When he’s asked what he would like for Christmas, he flushes and leans in, cupping his hands around the man’s ear, whispering _Louis Tomlinson_ before he can stop himself, giggling afterward.

 

Once Zayn has had his picture taken, he pulls Harry back into the hall and onto the dance floor.

 

Harry gets very sweaty jumping around to Niall’s music choice, swaying along to the music so that his collar feels tight where it’s buttoned up to his neck. He raises his hands above his arms and bounces around with Zayn, genuinely laughing and enjoying himself.

 

He’s been dancing for much too long and he feels sickly hot and his feet hurt and he’s about to go get some water, but then Louis in front of him, grinning ear to ear.

 

'This is amazing!' Louis shouts over the music, and Harry grins, nodding with him.

 

The music slips into a faster mix, still thumping with bass, and Harry’s laughing as he starts to dance to it. Louis joins in with him, jumping around to the fast beat until they’re both shiny with sweat and Harry is sure he has heart glittering in his eyes.

 

Harry stills to take a breath, and Louis shout something at him that he doesn’t catch before he too Is pausing his movements. Harry watches his chest heave, the way his hair clings at his temple from sweat. His eyes are sunny, sharp against the dull of the hall and Harry feels like he’s falling.

 

Harry knows he’s in love. He’s ridiculously and hopelessly in love.

 

Harry lets his eyes flick over Louis, too giddy with excitement to care as his eyes maybe stick to Louis’ mouth for too long. He watches as the grin slowly slips down Louis face, until his expression is blank.

 

When Harry looks back at Louis' eyes, he sees them flick up from his lips.

 

Harry steps closer, his hands starting to shake and goose bumps prick at the back of his neck. Louis steps even closer, licking his lower lip as his eyes flicker down to watch as Harry licks his lip and oh god.

 

 _Oh god_.

Harry is going to kiss Louis. He is going to _kiss_ Louis _Tomlinson_.

 

And Louis' leaning in and Harry feels drawn to him, stumbling forward into him as his eyes flick down to his lips, and now is not the time for Harry to be thinking about magnets, thinking about how he’s drawn to Louis and he can’t resist his pull. And oh _god_ he’s going to kiss Louis Tomlinson.

 

But then Liam Payne, Liam goddam Payne, is at Louis' side with a radiant smile on his lips and Harry watches in utter panic as his fingers curl around Louis' arm and he's pulling him away with a cry of: 'Louis, you gotta come look!'

 

Louis gives him a last look, a hopeful smile, and he goes, leaving Harry standing still in a body of movement, and Harry wonders if he imagined it all.

 

 

 

 

Everyone’s gone by eleven due to teachers shooing them out, but Harry stays in the hall, waiting for his mum to fetch him (“Sorry sweetheart, I fell asleep on the couch and now the roads are covered in snow. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”)

 

He hadn’t seen Louis for the rest of the evening, and he feels more stupid the more he thinks about it. Louis probably jumped for joy at the opportunity to run off, probably would have let Harry kiss him because he’s too nice and then he would have never spoken to Harry again.

 

He’s kicking his boots around in the fake snow when he hears the platform creak behind him, and he twists to look.

 

And of course it’s Louis, because Harry was born with shit luck and of course Louis will show up when Harry’s insides are rotting with embarrassment, the rosebuds of love he’d felt shrivelling and dying after being watered with far too much humiliation to survive. Bur Louis looks amazing, his fringe brushed to the side with tiny flecks of snow caught, and even tinier snowflakes caught on his eyelashes, and Harry doesn’t understand how he can wear a tee-shirt and a suit and look so complete and utterly lovely.

 

'Hey,' Louis says, softly in the deafening silence of the hall.

 

Harry looks up at him. 'Hi.' He knows his cheeks are blood red and looking at Louis is too bright and hurts his eyes.

 

Louis nods slowly before walking towards Harry. He steps down off the platform, his calf brushing Harry’s thigh where he’s perched on the lowest step, and it gives harry a jolt that makes him feel like he’s stuck his finger in a socket.

 

He watches as Louis roams through the empty hall, the fake snow brushing at his bare ankles. It’s a bit mesmerizing, watching him walk around in circles, idly pacing. It’s what Harry imagines being hypnotized must feel like. Harry feels a bit lost in it.

 

But of course, Louis catches him staring, and Harry flushes pink. Louis’ standing in the centre of the empty hall, smiling slow and shy, and he crooks a finger for Harry.

 

Harry stands up slowly, always obedient, walking the distance toward him before stopping so that the toes of his boots are almost brushing against Louis'.

 

'Hey Harry,' Louis starts, and Harry looks up, hoping that Louis won’t notice his rosy cheeks due to the flashing Christmas lights. 'What’s that?' he asks, pointing up, and Harry follows the direction of his slender finger, looking straight up, and, oh.

 

 _Oh_.

 

‘That’s, um, that's mistletoe.' he stutters, eyes glued to the dangling object.

 

'What’re the rules of mistletoe again?' Louis asks, fluttering his eyelashes, the picture of innocence, and Harry swallows thickly.

 

'Um, you have to kiss whoever you stand under it with.' Harry says slowly, his heart beating so fast he’s scared he may pass out.

 

Louis steps closer to him and Harry almost jumps out of his skin when he curls his fingers around Harry’s hip. 'Really?' he asks softly, before he’s bringing his second hand up to rest at the dip in Harry’s spine. 'Well, we're standing under it, so...'

 

Harry nods lamely, before Louis' leaning in and he kisses Harry. Harry’s shocked, frozen, and Louis flexes his fingers on his hips and kisses him again and again until Harry reacts, wrapping his arms around Louis’ neck and leaning into him.

 

Louis smiles against his lips as he kisses his mouth open.

 

He tastes like sunshine.

 

 

 

 

When Harry’s mum comes to fetch him fifteen minutes later, his lips are swollen, his cheeks are flushed, and he has a date for Friday.


End file.
